Hot Under the Collar
by RenaRoo
Summary: The Wayne children arguing over nonsense will drive Alfred up a wall just yet.


Prompt from capucine: Can I ask for a prompt of who in the batfam can handle the spiciest food? I feel like it would quickly devolve into a terrible competition.

Batman and related properties © DC Comics  
story © RenaRoo

 **Hot Under the Collar**

Sometimes Alfred regretted being well known for his culinary expertise.

"So you _could_ order us a host of ghost peppers. _Technically."_

The butler raised a cautious brow and continued cleaning the mantle. "Master Timothy, have you been told before that you would make an _excellent_ lawyer should the desire ever compel you?" he asked.

Tim smirked and crossed his arms. "Hey, if Babs could pass the bar on a boring weekend, why can't I?"

"Oh, please, don't insult Barbara by comparing yourself to her," Jason snorted, waving his hand. "I mean, most of us here actually _like_ Babs."

"Ouch! Need ice for that burn, Tim?" Steph asked, literally poking Tim's ribs as she did so.

Cassandra laughed into her hand and nodded.

"Get him no ice – give Drake _nothing_ for any burns," Damian ordered angrily, nearly leaning his whole body over the back of the couch. "Especially not for his mouth. The scorching he'll be receiving from the competition will be the only way to truly test if he can remain silent."

"Shut up, Damian," Tim rose to the bait almost immediately.

"Everyone shut up," Dick groaned. He then glanced toward Alfred. "But, say, twenty, Alfred?"

" _Twenty,_ Master Dick?" Alfred asked skeptically. "Do you believe there could be that many rounds?"

"No, just that I want some leftovers to eat after I'm done smoking everyone at this," he added with a smirk.

"This is getting ridiculous," Jason snapped. "Absolutely _ridiculous_ if you think that you can smoke _anyone_ when it comes to a spicy food contest, Dickie."

Alfred huffed and began meticulously placing back all of the decorative artifacts back to their proper places on the mantle. Not one of the children lifted a finger – knowing better than to mess with his organization. "I will agree with you there, Master Jay. This exercise in hypotheticals has gotten excessive."

"I have Alfred on my side," Jason said as if he were wearing a badge of honor for his trouble. "Dick, you can't win this."

"I'll prove you all wrong, just wait," Dick said. "Just because I have a sweet tooth doesn't mean my tasting abilities are a waste–"

"Okay, that does bring up a good point about _tastes,"_ Steph stepped in. "What if we end up not liking the taste of the pepper and it has nothing to do with not being able to take the heat."

"Then suck it up, Brown," Damian replied angrily.

" _Behave,_ Damian," Stephanie warned.

"We'll just get a bunch of peppers of the same magnitude on the Scoville scale," Tim said flippantly. "There's half a dozen in that range, at the least."

"Scoville scale?" Dick asked.

"The pungency scale for chili peppers," Tim shrugged.

Jason waved to Tim almost angrily. "Let me guess, and _everyone but me_ is just going to let go of the fact that Tim randomly knows that off the top of his head."

"Sirs and madams, I will _not_ be traversing across all plains of existence in search of a dozen of each of those peppers for your contest," Alfred told them finally. "I am rather insulted that you think so little of my time that you believe I even _would_ do such a thing."

The only one to have the decency to look somewhat concerned over Alfred's comment, Dick turned to the butler and shook his head. "Aw, Alfred, c'mon. We didn't mean it that way!"

Completely opposite reaction, Damian threw up his arms. "If Pennyworth's out, how are we supposed to get these peppers now? I _refuse_ to believe that Drake's computer simulation has any merits whatsoever."

Silence befell the children of Wayne Manor for a thoughtful pause.

Alfred took that as his best cue for leaving and gathered his cleaning supplies to head to the next room when he heard from none other than Cassandra a rather frightful suggestion.

"We can… just go," she pointed out, spinning the den's globe just for good measure. "Get them. Ourselves."

And with that suggestion alone a frightful energy appeared among the children.

With no other way to stop them, Alfred went for the phone to call Bruce.

Hopefully he would be out of his board meeting before the jet was taking off.


End file.
